


Porcelain face

by Phantomxlegend



Series: Phantom is having Minecraft brainrot [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Angst, Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Crying, How Do I Tag This, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Minecraft Mechanics, Platonic Cuddling, Protective GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Slight depictions of a panic attack, Small Explosions, This is completely platonic, Video Game Mechanics, but you can see it as romantic if you want, dream’s mask, kinda whump, slight identity issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomxlegend/pseuds/Phantomxlegend
Summary: Dream wore his mask just like how the sky was blue.  They were both facts of life.  And George respected that, he didn’t need to pry.  But what if something happens to his mask?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Phantom is having Minecraft brainrot [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163861
Comments: 2
Kudos: 166





	Porcelain face

**Author's Note:**

> *deep inhale* bro I don’t know. I like completely lost the plot halfway through but it’s not terrible. I finished it so. This takes place like before all the big stuff happened and all that I don’t know. Like the beginning of the server, I wasn’t there for that and nor have I watched any yet. 
> 
> So uh big oof.
> 
> This is about the characters not the creators and is also written mostly as platonic but you could see it as romantic if you wish idk.
> 
> Also trigger warning for a slight depiction of a panic attack but it’s not that descriptive.

George knew that Dream wore a mask, it was just something that was like that. He didn’t pry on what was underneath, and he didn’t ask why Dream wore the mask. That’s just how it was.

Dream wore that porcelain smiley-faced mask just like how the sky was blue. And it wasn’t George’s business why.

Occasionally Dream would describe what he looked like to George on those rare moments. And George didn’t think he hid his face because of his looks, he sounded beautiful.

“I have freckles too,” Dream would say nonchalantly after he was deep in thought for a while.

“Are they cute?” George would ask in response, grinning mischievously. 

Dream tilted his head to the side, George had gotten good at reading his body language when there were no facial expressions to see. George always took him a bit by surprise when George asked that question, making him see his appearance in more than a neutral light.

“I guess so, they’re not bad.”

“Can I see?”

Dream would shake his head and laugh. That’s how it always went.

Today was an off day though, George could tell from practically a mile away. There was a static in the air that foretold a storm. Dream’s mask was crooked, and he was silent for a long time while he and George were sitting by the lake, the community house still unfinished but that was a project to work on later.

“George,” Dream said, hesitancy in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“I looked in the mirror today and…” Dream carded his fingers through his hair, “you know what I saw?”

“What did you see?” George furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the masked man, figuring that there was going to be some sort of punchline here.

“I saw a person I don’t recognize.” he folded his hands together in his lap, staring at the water.

“Oh.”

“I don’t recognize myself anymore without the mask,” A pair of gloved fingers came up to brush against the edge, “It’s… I don’t know why I didn’t.”

George didn’t know how to comfort him, so instead, he wrapped an arm around Dream’s shoulder pulling him closer. George couldn’t tell if he was crying or not under the mask but if the soft shuddering sighs were anything to go off of.

“What did you look like when you looked in the mirror?”

“Scared,” Dream said, “he—I was scared. I’ve always known what I look like, just when I saw it, it surprised me,” he shook his head.

“Whatever you saw was you, Dream, it’s always gonna be you there,” George promised, rubbing his arm in a way that he hoped was comforting. Dream nodded and sat up, sniffling slightly.

“can you look away?”

“Huh?” that wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I—I need to take my mask of… uh… I…” Dream was fumbling, tugging at the edges of his gloves, “please…”  
  
George nodded “of course,” and turned away from Dream, even shielding his eyes so there was no way he could see. There wasn’t anyone else around and it didn’t seem like someone would walk by. George could hear Dream moving, sniffling, and probably rubbing his eyes.

“You can look…”

When George turned back around, the mask wasn’t crooked anymore and there was a wet spot on Dream’s sleeve. He sniffled again, not looking at George.

“We should go get more wood for the community house,” Dream said, running his finger along the edge of his mask.

“Let's go quick before it storms,” George nodded.

Dream already had his axe out as he followed George to the trees, the intimidating blade reflecting light onto the grass.

Neither of them spoke, hacking at the trunks of trees with a rhythm. Dream seemed content to pretend what he had said earlier didn’t happen and George wasn’t going to bring it up again. Focusing on the wood in front of them instead.

Suddenly, a stick hit George in the back of the head, he spun around to find Dream laughing, a bundle of sticks gathered in his arms. 

“Dream!” George cried out, “why do you have so many sticks?”

Dream threw another stick but his aim was a bit off this time.

“We’ve got enough wood for today,” he said through laughter.

“Stop throwing sticks at me!” George gathered the sticks that had fallen at his feet.

“Let’s go back.”

The sun was starting to set just as clouds were gathering, fat raindrops falling through the leaves. Dream pulled his hood up over his head. George watched the clouds for a second.

“Yeah okay, I don’t wanna get wet.”

Dream scoffed, a jest sitting on the tip of his tongue. He still held the sticks under one arm, dragging one of them against the ground, disturbing leaves and overturning small rocks.

“Hey Dream,” George hadn’t meant to start up a conversation. The thoughts inside his head were supposed to stay there. 

No going back now though.

“Yeah?” Dream shouldered the sticks, his boots thumping against the wooden path.

“Why _do_ you always wear a mask?” George licked his lips. Dream stopped, his shoulders were set in a way that George didn’t know how he was going to react.

“Why do you always wear those shoes? Or those glasses?” Dream finally said after a long hesitance. There was a hidden warning behind his voice. George swallowed thickly.

“Oh…”

“Dang look at that massive fish,” Dream quickly switched subjects, pointing into the water at a large cod swimming by. It was probably twice the size of the other fish.

“Wow.”

Dream chuckled, moving on down the path. He dropped the sticks in a chest along with the wood that they had gathered. George did the same. The rain had started to pick up, thunder rumbling in the distance.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Dream suggested, “since you’re oh so afraid of getting wet.”

“Shut up,” George pushed Dream’s shoulder, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“So you don’t want me to?”

“Well, you’ve suggested it so now you have to!”

Dream tilted his head with a shrug. The cocky idiot he was.   
“I’ll even let you wear my jacket.”

“Not if you’re gonna patronize me like that,” George huffed, storming out through the other door, knowing that Dream was following. Rain seeped into his shirt making him shiver. Dream followed a few steps behind his axe strapped to his back, his footsteps practically silent.

Mobs could be heard in the shadows of the night, hissing and groaning. George figured if they stayed on the well-lit path they’d be mostly fine and wouldn’t have to deal anything. He quickened his pace, wanting to get home and get out of the rain as soon as possible. He’d even curl up by the fire with maybe some mushroom soup. That sounded nice.

Maybe he could even convince Dream to stay for a bit too.

Just as George’s house was on the horizon, the telltale hiss of a creeper came from behind. Dream reacted quickly, but he fumbled a second too long with the strap on his axe. 

The large boom echoed, tossing both George and Dream a few feet back. Dream stumbled, hitting the ground hard.

“Dream!” George exclaimed, thankful that at least his friend’s armor hopefully would’ve taken most of the blow.  
Dream was hunched over, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, his breaths coming in small gasps.

“Dream are you okay?” George asked, his eyes glazing over the hole that they’d be able to fix later (but ultimately forget about). George put his hand on Dream’s shoulder, worry twisting in his gut. Dream would usually be up by now. But the way he was trembling, and how he wouldn’t say anything worried him.

That’s when George saw the shattered pieces of Dream’s mask in his lap. The white porcelain covered in ash and gunpowder, the trademark smile split down the middle, shards scattered on the ground.

If George had ever acknowledged his want to see Dream’s face, this was not at all how he would’ve wanted it to be.

“Hey, hey, Dream,” George tried to steel himself, his heart pounding wildly.

Dream was muttering curse words, repeating the same phrase over and over, he still didn’t look up, his hands pressed against his face. 

George put a hand on Dream’s arm which snapped the man back to attention. Dream looked up, one hand still covering most of his face. But George could see his eyes, wide and filled with unsuppressed panic. Dream didn’t say anything, it was hard to tell if he was crying with the rain pouring down on them.

“Dream,” George said again.

“No,” Dream whispered, “no, no, no, no.” He tried to scramble to his feet, his knees giving out as soon as he tried to stand. George grabbed his arms before he could fall.

“Are you hurt?”

“Stop! Please,” Dream squeezed his eyes shut, looking down, “George.”

“Dream you need to breathe,” George said, really not wanting Dream to pass out right now. And he looked close to it as well. His skin was sickly pale, hair sticking to his forehead, he was swaying on his feet and trembling. Barely able to get a breath in.

“I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can.”

George had never seen him like this, never this worked up. His eyes darted around wildly. His hand never left his face, trying to cover what he could with the pieces of his mask on the ground.

“Dream we need to get out of the rain if more mobs come…”

Dream ducked his head, moving his hand from his face to hold onto George for support. He whimpered quietly, gasping. He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to hold it for a few seconds. George wondered if this had happened before.

“Please, Dream,” George looked around anxiously, “Dream it’s gonna be okay.”

Dream only shook his head. George pulled him closer, his arms wrapping around his lower back. 

Dream was taller than George by quite a bit, but Dream buried his face into George’s shoulder nonetheless. The hug was tight, and the threat of mobs kept George on edge, and he had never seen his friend like this.

“We need to get inside please, I’ll walk in front, I won't look, I promise,” George said.

It took a long time for a response to come from him, “okay…”

Dream gripped George’s hand like it was a lifeline, walking behind the other man, his footsteps echoing. The walk up the hill to George’s house was longer than it usually would’ve been and Dream kept stumbling.

George really had no clue if he was hurt or not by the explosion, it was dark and it was hard to see if there was blood. And he wasn’t entirely focused on that at the time.

Inside his house now, George let go of Dream’s hand only to light the fireplace. Dream sat down on the couch, both hands returning to cover his face, he pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Are you hurt?” George had to ask again.

“No…” Dream swallowed thickly, “no… I don’t—maybe?”

All George could see were some minor burns and a few scrapes and bruises. Dream’s shoulders shook with barely suppressed cries, tears slipping between his fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay Dream,” George sat next to him, Dream leaned his head on his shoulder, “I’ll… I’ll fix your mask. It’s okay.”

This time, Dream laughed. It was a pained, tight laugh, wet with tears. He dropped one hand, clenching the fabric of his shirt.

“There’s no fixing it.”

“Is there a way to get a new one?”

Dream shrugged, leaning back into the couch, he dropped his hands. George looked away, trying to be respectful.

“It’s hard to breathe…” Dream said, “with it gone.”

“I’m sorry,” George muttered, “if we had gone quicker that probably wouldn’t have happened. Or if we hadn’t spent so much time gathering wood.”

“It’s not your fault.” George didn’t like Dream’s tone of voice. It was scarily calm yet sad. He pulled his hood up over his head, pulling it down to cover his eyes. George frowned.

“Can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to… I don’t want to go home,” Dream sighed, and rubbed his face.

“Y–yeah of course,” George agreed. Dream leaned on George again, his head resting on his shoulder. He took shuddering breaths, steeling himself. 

The fire didn’t provide much warmth and the house was still cold. And Dream needed comfort, that could be the excuse for their current position. Neither of them wanted to move. 

“George look at me.”

George jumped, “what?”

Dream sat up pulling George to look at him. The sudden change in mood scared George.

It wasn’t at all what he was expecting. Dream hadn’t been lying every time he described his face, yet George’s impression was way off.

_“I have freckles too you know.”_ Splotches of freckles dotted his cheeks and nose, they were faded but still visible. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy but they were lightly colored and reflected light from the fireplace. _“There’s a small scar above my lip, but it's starting to fade.”_ The scar was barely a line. His lips were chapped. There were things that Dream hadn’t even mentioned. The scars on his chin, how his eyelashes were noticeably long, how his nose was crooked probably from being broken several times.

Dream flinched under George’s gaze but didn’t try to hide his face again, he looked down. 

“You…” Dream swallowed thickly, George was definitely not used to seeing this much expression practically laid out on a platter from the other man, “you deserved to see.”

“You’re really pretty,” George blurted out, then quickly coughed trying to steel himself, “sorry… thank you for showing me.”

Dream laughed weakly, looking down at his lap rubbing his face. George couldn’t stop himself from staring, trying to take it all in, the curve of his nose, or the way his chin jutted out.

There were more attempts at a conversation, words that didn’t mean anything ultimately to fall into silence again. It was comfortable.

“I think I’m just gonna go to sleep right here,” Dream said. George would’ve assumed that he was joking by his tone of voice, but the exhaustion was laden in his posture. George was so used to guessing his mood by body language he barely registered his tired expression.

“I’ll find a blanket… I think I have an extra one somewhere,” George nodded, getting up to search the barely used linen closet. Most of his blankets were on his bed, and he rarely had guests stay the night so no use for extra blankets that he wasn’t using.

He tossed a soft fleece blanket over the back of the couch, Dream wrapped it around his shoulders, toeing off his boots.

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna head off to bed too I suppose, wake me if you need anything,” George shrugged.

“Okay… goodnight.”

George couldn’t see Dream from where he was standing, but he heard him shuffling on the couch. George retired to his room, taking his shoes off and climbing under the covers.

* * *

In the morning, the shards of Dream’s mask were on the kitchen counter. George didn’t mention how after he had woken up way earlier than Dream, he went to the explosion hole, salvaging the larger pieces that he could see and bringing them back. Trying to figure out what he could do with them. 

Dream didn’t ask about it either. When he had finally gotten up, his eyes were still puffy and red, he had probably cried more after George had gone to bed. He stared at the shards for a few seconds before turning his attention back to George.

They didn’t mention the fact that it was almost three in the afternoon by the time Dream left, his hood pulled up over his face, what could be salvaged of his mask carefully glued together covering half of his face.

That was just how it went.

**Author's Note:**

> I could name so many things I did wrong with this (main being the pacing... tf was with that?) but yknow I tried. I got a little bit of serotonin out of this and I wanted this specific topic. So idk. I think it’s pretty okay, I like the beginning and end so I hope y’all liked it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, love y’all.


End file.
